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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613585">The Voices in My Head</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Islandic_Princess/pseuds/Islandic_Princess'>Islandic_Princess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stray Kids [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Based from a prompt, F/F, Felix/Hyunjin/Jisung/ and Jeongin are mainly the ones mentioned, I wanted to reuse this particular prompt again, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lee Minho | Lee Know-centric, Mentioned Stray Kids Ensemble, Minsung is mostly implied, TRIGGER WARNING FOR DEPICTION OF MURDER</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:48:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Islandic_Princess/pseuds/Islandic_Princess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho goes about his life as usual until it no longer is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stray Kids [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Voices in My Head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS. THEY WERE ADDED FOR A REASON AS THE END OF THIS STORY CAN CAUSE SERIOUS TRIGGERS. </p>
<p>Once again, I'm placing a trigger warning for the ending of this short story. If you want to continue reading, then that's up to you but you have been warned,</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sound of hissing drew his attention away from the article on his phone as he set the device back down on the counter. Turning to his right, he shut the stove off before grabbing the kettle and placing it on a cooling mat. Sighing, he reached into the cabinet above him to retrieve a mug before placing a tea bag into it. Grabbing the kettle once again, he carefully poured in the boiling hot water. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should make another mug...</span>
  </em>
  <span> The man thought to himself as he eyed his own drink. Shaking his head, he turned and made his way from the kitchen and out onto the back porch. Glancing around the small back yard, he decided to sit on the lone swing as a gentle breeze passed by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“You didn’t make me a mug?” A voice joked from somewhere behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“You don’t even like tea. But there should be enough if you want to make some coffee.” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he held the mug close to himself. The air was a little chiller than he’d like, but the house had felt too stuffy to stay inside of at the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Hmm..” the figure behind him hummed before the swing shifted from the added weight. “I’m already out here so it’d be a pain to go back in just for a drink.” A comfortable silence washed over them as they both took in the view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>When he bought his house, Minho hadn’t really considered what to do with the backyard. But after a year of close consideration, he had come up with a plan that kept him both busy, and doubled as a stress reliever. Finishing the last bit of his tea, he set his mug by his foot before stretching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Hannie,” the male in question took a moment before turning to look at him. “Do you think I have enough room for one more?” ‘Hannie’ shrugged as he gave the yard another look over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Perhaps if you plan it out right. But I’d give it a rest for a few days. Don’t want to rush this one Lino. The last one got a little too dirty, even for your standards.” At the youngers words, Minho could feel a grin forming as still fresh memories replayed themselves. “I’ll be heading in now. Don’t stay out too late or you’ll get sick.” Minho knew he wouldn’t be seeing the other for the rest of the night as the back door swung shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>He remained out on the porch for an hour longer before finally giving in to his thoughts. Standing, he grabbed his mug and slipped back in doors making sure the back door was locked and secure. Placing the empty mug in the sink, he filled it with water before shutting the tap off. Grabbing his phone, he made his way to the living room where the tv was still playing, the news anchor's voice softly filling the space. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Seoul police are still on the lookout for the person responsible for the recent kidnappings all over the city. They haven’t been able to pinpoint any potential motives, or connections, but they have given the perp a nickname in the mean-” Before the reporter could finish, Minho quickly shut the tv off with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsk</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Spinning on his heels, his eyes landed on a familiar squirrel plushie laying on the floor. Leaning down, he picked the soft object up and set it on the coffee table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>Checking the time, Minho let his eyes close for a moment as he debated on getting ready for bed, or staying up and calling out of work in the morning. Figuring the second option may lead to his termination, Minho shook the thoughts away and began for the steps. Once in his room, he plugged his phone in and waited for the device to come back to life. When he was able to unlock it, he gave the article one last look over before forcing himself to lock his phone and place it on the nightstand. Grabbing some fresh clothes, he disappeared into the bathroom leaving the door cracked just a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>It didn’t take long for the bathroom to fill with steam as Minho got lost in the little cuts littering his upper arms. Tearing his sight away, he quickly adjusted the temperature to a more comfortable one. When it was set, he stripped and carefully stepped in. Normally he’d be out in a few minutes, but tonight he just wanted to stand under the warmth and let his body relax as the stress of the day prior melted away. By the time he steps out, his skin is a bright red and has begun to feel wrinkly. Grabbing his towel, he dries off as best as possible before throwing on some pajamas. Hanging his towel, Minho takes a moment to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair to get rid of any knots that may have formed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>Leaving the bathroom, he eyes his alarm clock with a sharp glare hating how it’s only eight at night. If his job didn’t pay decently, he most likely would’ve already quit seeing as it requires him to be up at 4:30am at the latest. Mumbling a string of curses, he double checked that his alarm was set before slipping under the bed once the lights were out. Rolling onto his side, a soft smile replaced his scowl as he thought about his students. As much as they drove him crazy, he still really enjoyed teaching them. Especially the toddlers who reminded him of both kittens and ducklings in how they tended to follow him around the studio or would excitedly play with the laces of their ballet shoes. Sleep welcomed him as his eyes fluttered shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>The sound of his alarm was one of a shrill like scream jostling him from a deep sleep. Slamming his hand down, he managed to hit the snooze button which gave him time to rub the sleep from his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he slowly sat up as he stretched his arms and back. Letting his head hang, Minho took a moment to collect himself before properly turning off his alarm. Flinging the sheets off himself, he stood, cursing the chill sent through him from the cold wooden floors. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“I always tell you to invest in a pair of slippers,” a teasing voice speaks from someone in the room causing him to grit his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Do-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“180 degrees for 20 minutes in the air fryer. Yes hyung, I’m aware of how to cook myself.” The voice lets out a high pitched laugh followed by muffled laughs from another. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Hyunjin,” Minho growls out clearly irritated and not in the mood for jokes so early. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“I’m gone,” when he looks towards where he assumed the voice came from, there’s nobody. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“For now at least,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> the youngers voice echoes in his head. Not even bothering to check to see how much time he’s waisted, Minho heads straight for the bathroom not even bothering to turn the light on until just before stepping into the shower. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>When he gets downstairs, he’s met with a grinning Jisung. Minho can’t bring himself to speak as he simply waves at the younger male. It seems to please the other as he’s soon on his way out the back to where he assumes the others are currently hiding. Getting some bread from the cabinet, he drops the slices into the toaster before pushing the tabs down. While he waits for his breakfast, he double checks he has everything, He finds his phone in his shorts pocket, his wallet in his other pocket, studio keys in the outer pocket of his duffle bag, and his car keys around his neck on his cat lanyard. When the toaster dings, he grabs the butter from the fridge and quickly spreads some on the slices before putting it back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Heading to the studio again?” A deep voice sounds from near the back door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Where else would I be going at five in the morning Lix?” A giggle is the only reply he gets as he munches on his food. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Are you stopping by the café on the way?” Minho glances upwards to see a bright smile directed towards him. “I miss it there. It was actually a really nice place to study or just relax at after school.” Minho hums around a mouth full of food before swallowing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“I’d tell you to visit it, Jeongin, but we both know you can’t anymore.” Minho replies as he cringes slightly at the sad look on the younger. Finishing, he tosses his paper towel away before snatching his duffle bag and leaving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>The drive to the café is a long one at nearly thirty minutes on a good morning. When he arrives, he enters to a chorus of “hellos”’ and “good mornings.” Waving, he steps up to the pickup counter where he hands the young teen the amount owed. Taking his coffee, he moves over to one of the tables where another teen, this one having just graduated high school smiles at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Still haven’t heard from those two boys at the studio?” The owner of the shop questions as she sweeps away some dirt from around the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“I’m not all that concerned. People suddenly stop attending for different reasons. I had four kids suddenly drop out my first year of teaching simply because the mother and her friends didn’t want me teaching them.” His confession is met with a few gasps and whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Are you serious?” Minho nods as he sips his drink. “I couldn’t imagine wasting all of that money for some selfish reason. Why didn’t they want you teaching?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Something about me only being in college and not trusting me to teach their kids properly.” The conversation continues on until it’s time to head to work. Saying his goodbyes, Minho tosses his cup in the trash on his way out. Grabbing his bag from his passenger seat, he walks the remaining distance to the two story dance studio. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>When he arrives, it’s five minutes to six, giving him enough time to make it to the office and clock in. When he’s done clocking in, he drops his bag off into his studio on the second floor and sets about making sure the floor is dry, the tapped makers are secure, and the ballet bar is sturdy. By the time he’s made it through his checklist, a number of his student’s have begun to roll in. He greets the parents with a bright smile and an even brighter one for the children. The two hour lesson comes to an end with excited cheers when he announces a surprise for tomorrow's class. The goodbyes are a little more rushed, but it’s nothing new as the children are too eager to go play or eat as it’s already 9:45am. Even after four years, he still doesn’t understand why his first class needs to start at 7:45am. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>After everyone leaves, he pulls out his towel and quickly wipes his face down to rid it of sweat. Grabbing his water bottle, he takes a number of sips before freezing as he stares at the mirror. Staring back at him is a familiar blond with their hair up in a high ponytail and a bright smile on their face. He can see the blonds lips moving but nothing can be heard until the sound of a door slamming pulls him back to reality. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Sorry Minho, I didn't mean to startle you. I was just wondering if you figured out what to do about the two drop outs.” His boss asks as he rings his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“I have two students in the evening class on Mondays that I think could fill the role. They easily keep up with me and I’ve even had them try the choreo.” His boss slowly nods while looking around the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Just remember, this is a competition team we’re talking about. Not just anybody can fill the roles, and I mean it Minho. Those boy’s won us our reputation in the competition field after you stopped competing.” Minho bows as his boss turns and leaves, leaving him to his own thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>Clenching his jaw, he grabs the notebook off the lone shelf next to the stereo. Flicking through it, he comes to a stop on the most recent page. There’s a list of six potential student’s that he carefully looks over. Two of them have really stuck out to him the past week, and he knows they’d make a great addition to the team. Had they had an opening before recently, he would’ve invited them sooner. Making his decision. He shuts the notebook and places it back in its spot just before the next group of student’s arrive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>When it’s time for lunch, he lets his body drop down onto one of the benches in the small waiting room outside the studio. Half of him wants to go home for his two hour break, but the other half just wants to crash where he sits and sleep. Heaving his body up, Minho makes his way down the set of stairs and into the windy streets. There’s a convenience store about five minutes away causing him to briskly make his way down to the corner. Upon arrival, he carefully steps around a few teens clearly skipping classes if their nervous glances are anything to go by. Once inside, he makes his way around the small store looking for anything that peaks his interest for lunch. By the time he gets to the counter to pay, he’s got his arms full of little things. There’s two energy drinks, a number of small chip bags, some candy, and two different sandwiches. It’s not the best lunch, especially since he’s still got half a day's worth of dancing left to do, but he can’t bring himself to care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>                                                                                                        ~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>It’s nearing 6:30pm by the time he arrives home, and Minho already feels like collapsing on the couch and calling it a night. His last class of the day, which also happened to be the competition team, ended with more arguments than he’d like to count. No one seemed to have a problem with his choice in fillers, but they also heavily disagreed with choosing fillers since they felt like he was replacing their teammates. Throwing his bag onto the floor by the stairs, he made his way into the kitchen to grab a quick snack before heading upstairs to shower. As he made his way to his bedroom, he noted how quiet the house seemed given how noisy it usually is. Shrugging it off, he figured after the day he had, some peace and quiet couldn’t be all that bad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>After his shower, Minho threw on the first things he grabbed before making his way back downstairs to start on dinner. He was halfway through cooking his noodles when a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>bang</span>
  </em>
  <span> caused him to flinch, Whipping around, he was met face to face with two guns being pointed at him as two officers shouted at him to get down. Grinning, Minho slowly lowered himself to his knees as he held his hands up while a third officer rushed to cuff him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Lee Minho, you’re under arrest for the suspected kidnapping of nine individuals. Anything you say can, and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court.” As his rights were read to him, Minho could only focus on the 7 figures standing about the living room. Only one of them was smiling at him while the others remained emotionless. As he was led through the house, he watched as the figures vanished as more officers passed through them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>                                                                                                             ~~</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>Upon his arrival at the station, he was shoved into an interrogation room where his hands were cuffed to the arms of the chair. Who he assumed was a detective sat before him with a grim look on his face as he looked through a file. Ignoring the other, Minho looked around, his grin never leaving him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Lee Minho, aged 23, moved to Seoul for college and is also a dance instructor at Inspirations Move. So tell me Mr Lee, were all of the victim's your students?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“No, just sweet lil’ Lixie and Hyunjin. Did you know detective, that human meat cooks very well in an air fryer? A person can’t even tell the difference between it and animal meat?” Minho watched as the older gulped while shifting in his seat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“And how would you know that?” His grin widened as he leaned forward some. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“I was bored one night and Hyunjin just wouldn’t stop screaming. I kept warning him that one day I’d cook him, so I did. It was just an experiment really. Cut his arm off, cooked it and fed half of it to him as he bled out on the kitchen floor. Of course, the other half was fed to my precious Hannie.” Minho thrived on the look of horror that overtook the other’s expression. “He was my most recent, and dirtiest kill too. Asked him on a date at my place and fed him what was left of Hyunjins arm. He thought it was chicken, can you believe that?” Letting out a dark chuckle, his grin fell into a blank look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Hannie? Are you referring to Han Jisung? A college student who also worked part time at the cafe near the studio?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>“Who else would I be speaking of? May I say detective, the officer who arrested me mentioned nine kidnappings, but I only took seven. They’re all dead of course, and I’ll gladly spill how I did it, but I won’t be charged for two that weren’t my own doing.” To Minho, the interrogation went on for hours, even though it was really only three. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>By the time he got to his last three kills, the detective had to leave as he could no longer handle the gruesome details. Minho was already well aware of the life sentence he’d receive. Maybe even the death sentence could be his fate. But he wasn’t afraid of dying. He’d seen the life drained from others, oh so many times, both by his own hands, and by others. <br/><br/></span>
  <span><br/>As he was led down the corridors, seven voices continued to whisper in his ears the same things they always did. <br/><br/></span>
  <span><br/>“Lino, I told you they’d catch on to you~.” A voice echoed as he was shoved to continue walking. <br/><br/></span>
  <span><br/>“Hannie, we’ll meet again very soon my love.” Minho’s voice was the last thing the officers registered before a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> was heard. Minho’s unmoving body lay on the cold tile floors of the station as red seeped from the wound in his neck. A large puddle quickly formed as the officers stood in shock, unsure of how to process what had just occurred.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Based off the prompt: Write a happy story with a dark twist. </p>
<p>I already used this prompt for one of my NCT short stories, but i wanted to do it again so here's a version with Stray kids' Minho.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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